zaifyrRR
patreon
Chapter 8: Trading Barbs
🕑 Added 2024-12-24 17:00:12 +0000 UTCChapter 8: Trading Barbs
The expedition had been a total shitshow from the very start.
Eleonora grimaced, her fingers blurring with the motions for [Lesser Healing]. As the spell completed, she sent the energy toward Jack's injured sword arm where it dangled at his side. Nearby, Rudolf released another arrow at the last comically oversized rat clinging to Jack's shield as he frantically waved it around with his good arm. The creature squealed in pain and fury as the shaft sank deep into its side, an unnervingly green liquid dripping from its maw. But it refused to die.
Her spell took effect, and the wound began to close over. The effects of whatever paralytic toxin the rat spewed also seemed to abate, and Jack began to shake the numbness from his arm as Rudolf hit the monster with another arrow.
Eleonora grimaced. Her healing could only do so much against poisons and toxins, which they'd been running into far too often in this forest. What she really needed was some sort of cleansing skill. It was one of the many reasons they should have turned back days ago. But no. After all, they'd just earned their first stars as Iron Rank adventurers, so clearly they were ready to take on the world. And besides, the Evergreen Seas was a supposedly low-level area. Even encountering the shadow panthers two full days before they were supposed to find any monsters wasn't a big deal—they could just push through. At least, that's what their fearless leader Jack insisted.
At this point, she was well past fed up with his overconfidence. There was clearly something wrong here, anyone with eyes could see that. Either those stories of elves keeping the monsters around here in check were entirely made up, or something had sent them packing. Her worries getting brushed off because, since they'd come this far, they might as well keep going… well, it very nearly made her blow her top.
Eleonora kept this to herself as she immediately began casting another spell. After this encounter, she would make sure they left. That, or headed back to the road, the one they were supposed to be following, even if she had to drag her bullheaded teammates there. Thank the gods it was nearby. At least, it was supposed to be. None of them were particularly good at reading a map, and this forest looked the same in every direction.
Jack slammed his shield into the ground, finally knocking the beast off. But if anything, that made the situation worse. Now the creature was free to run around as Jack tried to position himself between it, their archer, and their healer.
It darted toward her, beady eyes narrowed as it screeched again. She couldn't help but let out a squeak of panic as she pointed at it, casting the [Mana Bolt] she'd been preparing. A small ball of prismatic energy shot forward from her hand. The rat took the impact straight in the face, stumbling backwards in surprise.
Rudolf took advantage of the opportunity to loose a [Quickshot] into its thick hide. Jack tackled it a moment later, drawing a dagger from his belt to stab into the thing's head. The rat twitched a few more times, then went still.
The party stood for a few moments, waiting to make sure that it was really dead. Other rat corpses littered the small clearing where they'd been ambushed, their lifeless bodies riddled with arrows and slashes. Once they were certain that no more would jump out to attack, they all visibly relaxed.
Eleonora walked over to Jack and Rudolph as they slumped against a nearby tree, placing a hand on Jack's shoulder to heal him more efficiently. "So. We're heading back now, right?"
Jack looked up at her. His face was tired, but still as steadfast as ever. "Not yet," he panted. "The quest was to deal with the trade caravan disappearances. We haven't even found a single trace of one yet, much less fixed the problem."
"Actually," Rudolf interjected, holding up a finger in that annoying habit of his, "The quest was to find the problem preventing travel in the area, with bonus rewards for dealing with it."
Jack rolled his eyes at the correction. "The bonus rewards are the only thing that make this worthwhile. If we're gonna do it, we might as well do it right."
"I told you, Jack," Eleonora gestured furiously at the forest. "There's way more monsters here than there's supposed to be, and stronger ones too! They probably came through here expecting an easy trip and got ambushed and died—just like we've almost done, I dunno, three times already."
The party leader was already shaking his head. "We don't know that for sure. We have to keep looking."
Eleonora clenched her fists, then released them in an effort to calm herself. This was just making her regret being impatient even more. She never should have agreed to this mission before they were ready. She definitely should have put her foot down about backing off earlier. But also, she shouldn't have let her eagerness to start adventuring blind her to the glaring issues with Jack as their party leader.
For the most part, Jack was a solid guy. Tough, strong, dependable. He cared about his friends and didn't hesitate to throw himself into danger to protect them. But he was also stubborn. Very stubborn.
Unfortunately, the guild had rules. Every party had to have a leader, and that leader had to be at least eighteen. She and Rudolf were both still a year away from that, so the second Jack turned eighteen, they'd formed the party just like they'd always wanted to. However, Jack had different ideas of what being a leader meant, something that became all too clear once he was put under pressure and the cracks began to really show.
She bit her lip, trying to rein in her frustration. As Eleonora prepared herself to argue once again why continuing was a terrible idea that would get them all killed, something caught her eye. A glint of something shiny and black flashed from deeper in the forest, behind the tree that they'd gathered around. She stopped herself, squinting. Maybe it had been a trick of the light? Or maybe…
Before she could so much as say a word, something tugged at her ankle. Hard. She fell forward onto the ground, colliding briefly with Jack before getting yanked back and away from her party members. Eleonora screamed, sliding against the forest floor as dark, many-legged shapes dropped down on both Jack and Rudolf from above. She heard them shout in alarm and scramble for their weapons as she frantically rolled over to face her aggressor.
Dark, beady eyes stared back at her from the shadows—too many of them to count. More flashes of black glinted in the dappled sunlight, the forms themselves difficult to make out between the foliage and the shadows. Looking down, she realized that her leg was snared by a thick, sticky thread that the creature was using to reel her in.
More threads shot out from the blackness, impacting her legs, arms, and torso. She cast another [Mana Bolt], but the glittering projectile ricocheted uselessly against the thing's carapace. All she could do was scream and hope that her teammates would come through, somehow.
The dark, chitinous shape loomed over her. Eleonora felt a stab of pain in her leg as she struggled vainly against her captors. Then, everything went black.
***
"...And when the king confronted Willam about the new hole in his castle, he simply shrugged and said, 'You claimed it could laugh off a trebuchet. I just wanted to hear what that would sound like!'"
The finale of Marcus's tale elicited roars of laughter from the circle of Legionnaires gathered around the cookfire. A few of them doubled over, slapping their knees at the absurdity. A blonde Legionnaire clapped him on his shoulder and the impact nearly sent him sprawling off his log. "What a riot. Your people entertain some strange tales, bard."
"I could say the same for yours, Flavius." Marcus glanced up at the sun where it arced high in the sky. "But alas, as much as I'd enjoy regaling you with more tales of Willam the Oaf, it seems I must be off. I have business to attend to this afternoon.
Ever since the Legion had arrived a few days ago, Tiberius had been grilling him daily on all sorts of topics—the System, the kingdom of Novara, and the culture of this world, to name a few. Each morning, he met with the Legatus himself for a lengthy questioning, while his afternoons were reserved for answering officers' questions. It was quite a lot to manage, but he was certain the meetings would slow down soon. After all, as proud as Marcus was to flaunt his considerable knowledge, it did have its limits.
Marcus gracefully swept to his feet and straightened his cloak. One of the men called out from where he squatted on his own log. "Finally, some peace and quiet. You were beginning to stink up the whole camp with all the wind you spout."
The comment elicited another round of grins and chuckles. Despite the coarse words, it was clear that they were delivered with a kind of rough affection so common among soldiers and military men. It was yet more proof that these Legionnaires truly were human. What kind of soldier didn't enjoy a traveling bard's entertainment?
Marcus graced the circle with an exaggerated bow. "It was a pleasure chatting with you lot, as always. Please, don't pine after me in my absence. Your women already do that enough."
He turned on his heel to a brief round of good-natured jabs and jeers, heading for the edge of the camp. The discovery that these men appreciated good entertainment just as well as any had been a great boon to Marcus. It had allowed him to make some significant inroads with regards to winning the men over, especially the more rank-and-file ones. Their sense of humor was quite a bit darker than he usually catered to, and their songs were obviously foreign to him. However, those were easy enough to manage for a professional like him.
Their appreciation of his craft wasn't the only thing that humanized these men, however. The more he spoke with them, the more he learned about their personalities, interests, and backgrounds. These were not some simple summons who had simply appeared out of thin air. Well, technically they were, but they also had lives beforehand. Many spoke of previous wars and battles they'd seen or even wives, children, and families that they were eager to get back to.
It was enough to make him feel a little guilty for summoning them. However, what was done was done. They were here, and he had no idea how to send them back—or if such a thing were even possible.
He absentmindedly fingered the leather bound tome at his side. Even that had no answers for him. The Rites for the Summoning of a Roman Legion didn't include any details on how to cancel the spell or summoning at all. Worse, his casting of the spell had all but scoured it from the book's pages—a consequence of his lackluster investment into [Spellcraft] and magic as a whole. Once again, Marcus couldn't help but picture the ghost of some cantankerous old wizard looking down on him from above and wheezing with laughter. Unless the author was still alive. If that were the case, then he would certainly ensure that he paid them a visit.
Still, the tome wasn't entirely useless. The non-spellcraft parts of the text seemed to be of a more historical variety. What little he'd found time to read had already proved quite enlightening with regards to the Legion's culture and practices, helping Marcus to get an even better handle on his new "allies," if they could be called such.
Marcus allowed his gaze to rove across the camp as he walked, waving occasionally to Legionnaires as they busied themselves with cooking, repairing gear, and other such work. The air filled with the sounds of clanking metal and shouted commands. Clearly, the army wouldn't have fit inside Habersville itself, considering they outnumbered the townsfolk four to one. But their solution… well, it seemed a bit excessive.
What they called a "camp" he might've more accurately described as a pop-up fortress. Rows upon rows of precisely aligned tents formed a neatly ordered grid within its interior, with the higher-ranking officers' tents concentrated at one end. The entire thing was surrounded by a freshly dug moat, layers of sharpened sticks, and an honest-to-gods palisade. The wall stretched at least eight feet tall, its logs freshly felled from the newly-enlarged forest clearing that surrounded them. There were even elevated guard posts and gates at each entrance.
He couldn't help but shake his head at the sight. All of this, erected in a single day—less than that, considering how late they'd started. The fact that the men were still fresh level ones with no trained skills simply made it more incredible. Watching them had been like watching a swarm of ants, all chaos that somehow resolved into perfect order.
The reminder made him frown and activate [Appraisal] on the soldiers as he walked. Sure enough, every single one he passed was still level one. How that was possible, Marcus still wasn't sure. The Legion clearly was killing monsters, as evidenced by the shadow panthers roasting on spits all across the camp. If nothing else, that should have netted them at least a few higher-level fighters by now. But he had yet to see so much as a single level two, from the rank and file all the way up to the officers.
Maybe their class didn't gain experience from killing monsters? Something like that would be unheard of, yet the concept of group skills already suggested they were an anomaly. Still, every time he tried to prod Tiberius for information about it, the man remained frustratingly tight-lipped.
He mulled over the conundrum as he left the camp and began the short walk back to Habersville. The dark forest looming in the distance still made the back of his neck prickle with unease. However, the field of fresh stumps that pushed its edge even further in the distance than before certainly helped. That, and the scent of roasting meat that followed him out of the camp.
Now that he thought about it, the Legion's building prowess would probably make repairing the bridge a breeze. All he had to do was ask Tiberius or one of the other officers about it. Only, Marcus wasn't quite ready to move on yet. In only a few short days, Habersville had become quite the interesting place to be. He might not have enough material for a ballad yet, but in a few months… well, who knew what legendary feats the Legion might accomplish? It may even be enough to regain his place in the royal court.
As he approached the town's wall—a new one, since the Legion had seen fit to replace Habersville's old fortifications bright and early on their second day—Marcus waved up to the guards keeping watch above. Their polished metal breastplates gleamed in the sunlight, long spears gripped in their hands as they stood alert.
"Ho, Marcus!" One called down to him in the strangely clipped accent all Legionnaires seemed to share. He nudged his comrade in the side. "See? That's the one I was telling you about."
The other man peered down at Marcus. "Who? The storyteller guy?"
"Yeah, the bard. You should see him do accents, Sextus. He's the real deal."
"Better than you?"
"Well, maybe not that good…"
Marcus gave one of his signature bows as he hid a smile. "Ho, Cassius! Ho, Sextus! Hard at work keeping the town safe, I see!"
Cassius snorted. "Yeah. It's been real exciting up here. Almost as good as watching trees grow."
Cassius, on top of being a Legionnaire, was a bit of an amateur bard himself. After seeing him tell a surprisingly well-executed war story around the fire one night, Marcus had given him a few tips about stage performance. After that, they'd bonded over a shared love of telling stories, swapping some of their favorites. It was a great way for Marcus to get new material, not to mention learn more about his audience's tastes. And if he ever did leave the Legion behind, well, that new material would go to good use. After all, the first person to tell a story wasn't always the one who got credit for it.
Not that he'd ever do that to Cassius. He wouldn't even think about it.
"As much as I'd love to stay and chat, I have business to attend to in the town. I don't suppose you fellows would be willing to let me through?"
Marcus hadn't made his way out here simply for a leisurely walk. No, he had things to take care of before his afternoon meetings. Things that were best nipped in the bud well before they flowered. He needed to talk with the recently deposed Mayor of Habersville.
// so going to do three a week for a bit as we run through the stuff we have built up as we worked out the story. Hopefully we can keep up the pace. Will update y'all if the schedule changes
